Black Snake Moan: An Epilogue
by Charis Nova-Neko
Summary: [OneShot]A rugged fluff that peeks in on the old man, the young woman, and the characters surrounding them, for the span of a few hours. Written as part of the [Twelve Shots Of Summer: Quarter Queller].


An old man sits at his vanity table and combs back the hair left at the sides of his head. There isn't much an old man can do with hair that curls up tighter than a rattler before it strikes. But the shoeshine brush sure makes it shine, and to Lazarus, that shine makes him look sharp.

He fidgets with the coat of his new suit just a bit more, making sure no dust specks ruin the perfect white, which contrasts so richly against his black skin. Angela picked it out and bought it special for him, for today. He's not about to let anything ruin it - not the suit, and not the day. He's a little sore that she bought it, but her work at the pharmacy brings in a good amount for her to live on and then some, and she insisted on being able to do this for him. It's the first time someone besides his parents bought him anything - not even Rose had -

No. He's not gonna start thinking about Rose. Not today. He gives his head a shake to kick out Rose's face and replace it with Angela's. A spiteful part of his heart wishes he'd saved some of Rose's roses, just so Angela could carry them in a pretty bouquet. Well, never mind. If Angela wants roses, he'll plant them for her.

"You 'bout ready, old man?"

Ronnie stands in the same suit he wore for his wedding, looking over Laz's outfit. Laz hurriedly mumbles assent as he gets to his feet. "They ain't waitin' on me, are they?" he asks. Ronnie shakes his head with a grin. "Still got thirty minutes or so. Just wanted to check on ya."

Funny. He's the one who needs checking on now, instead of Rae. But it's not misplaced - after the way Rose left him -

No. Not gonna think about Rose.

"I appreciate y'all comin' in on such short notice," Laz tells him. "I know there ain't been much time to prepare for all this." Ronnie shakes his head again. "Naw, sir. Rae's just happy you invited us," Ronnie admits.

The two men walk out of the room to the little den, where the old radiator rattles with accumulated age and immediate use. It kept this old house warm for years, and now it's weathering another cold winter. It keeps up just about as well as Lazarus, for all the work it's done and the abuse it's taken. R.L. stands with his back facing the old thing, trying to get just a little extra warmth under his skin. He chuckles as he gives Lazarus the same once over. "You sure picked yourself a woman, to let her dress you like that," he comments. Laz raises a finger to the pastor and chides, "Now, now, you done said that last time I got married. Don't you go jinxin' it. 'Sides, I think I look pretty damn sharp."

"Oh, I don't mean nothin' by it, Laz," R.L. amends. "You got a right to look good, and a good woman like that knows how to do it, and do it plenty." R.L.'s words ease that little corner of spite from his heart, and Lazarus thanks God once more that he's got people like R.L. on his side. "Let's get a move on," R.L. continues. "Gotta get to the hitchin' post before the bride does."

It's funny to think, an old man getting married again so soon after divorcing his first wife. But it was R.L. that put his mind to rest on the matter. That pastor knows exactly how to keep the peace in people and make people think they're doing it themselves. That's how Rae and Ronnie got married after all. R.L. led the ceremony then, and he'll be leading the ceremony for Laz a second time. Wonder what words he'll change up from that first ceremony...

Can't go jinxin' it after all.

* * *

The winter's a cold one, and R.L.'s old car doesn't have a working heater. At least it doesn't snow much this far south. As it is, it's a fifteen minute ride over to the church, and Laz find himself shaking with more than just nerves before the car even reaches the parking lot. And just his luck, the entire damn place is loaded with cars. R.L. watches Lazarus roll his eyes in a motion of discontent, and the infectious grin that sprouts on the pastor's face makes it evident that the arrival of the congregation to congratulate their brother is entirely his doing.

It's a brisk walk from the car to the church foyer, and Lazarus gives himself another once over in the foyer mirror to check on the suit again. The church ain't quite warm yet - the radiator was turned on only hours ago, and it has several spots to heat up, compared to the space in Laz's house. The foyer is decorated in the flowers Angela picked for their wedding, red and white poinsettias. Laz had been a bit put off by having Christmas flowers at the wedding, but Angela had simply said, "They're flowers for life. The petals look like the leaves that take in the nourishment from the sun; the red ones are the lifeblood, and the white ones are the hope in the soul." Can't argue with that logic, and besides, if it makes Angela happy, then that makes Laz happy. At least they're not roses.

Focus, Laz.

* * *

The ceremony is simple and solemn, but full of a silent joy. The organist sends low and haunting vibrations throughout the building from the spot next to the pulpit, warming up the crowd from the inside while the radiator warms their outsides. Rae's picked out a new dress for standing in as the Maid of Honor, and the attitude that Ronnie's grown up seeing in her has been pocketed to put on the airs of a lady. It's times like these that Ronnie can't take his eyes off her. But for Laz, his eyes are fixed on Angela. She's chosen white lace with long sleeves that sit off of her shoulders, and they'd be bare but for the small fur shawl she's added. She's well dressed for her part, and Laz's heart is swollen with pure pride and joy as they play repeat-after-me with R.L..

It seems like the whole thing flies by far too quickly. Just as soon as the organ plays Mendelssohn's Wedding March, he's striding with Angela in one arm. And then they produce the broom, which they lift far too high on purpose, just to see what the new couple will do. With a capricious grin, the old farmer lifts up the bride in his hands as if she's merely a feather, which makes her whoop with surprise, and he carefully swings her over the broom before hopping over himself. And just like that, the murmurs of the crowd begin to echo in the building as everyone prepares for the wintry reception.

The rich, warm smells of hot coffee and cocoa permeate the sanctuary. That's the first stop for everyone in attendance, to ward off the wintry cold. Angela wants to stop and smell of the poinsettias first, and they form the receiving line all together just after the hot drinks, so nobody's kept waiting too long for the sustenance.

The first dance is the old Etta James standby, at Angela's request, and the low, jazzy reverberations strike the part of Laz's heart that lives for the sound of a blues bass. The two genres are as good as kin to one another, and it makes Laz think he'd put away his guitar for the rest of his life if Angela just asked him. Not that she would. She loves his guitar as much as he does, and she loves the fingers that pick at the strings. It's easy to tell from the way she grips his hand as they dance.

Only one thing could make this time even happier...

But no need for thinking about that, Laz, it's done.

* * *

Of course Rae makes time to talk with Lazarus. Her heart's healed under his sure hand, and she may as well have experienced the childhood she needed to set her straight because of him. She's an absolute fountain of words, more bubbly than the cheap champagne served for the first toast, telling Laz about the shop where Ronnie's working in Nashville now. She's not ashamed that Ronnie had to come back from the military - she would have stayed too lonely with him gone. No, now that Lazarus has set her free, she and Ronnie both need one another for their healing, and they've been able to give exactly what was needed, each to the other. As for herself? She reveals that she's been learning to cook more for Ronnie, rather than cheap Top Ramen and grilled Spam dinners, and Lazarus laughs with the joy that he was able to encourage that talent in her. "Promise you gonna make me some shrimp 'n' grits if'n I visit?" he jokes. She grins in response. "I'll have t' learn it first, but, yes, I'll learn fer you, Laz." "Aight, I'mma hold ya to it!"

She laughs again, and he takes the moment to say, "I'mma ask you somethin', an' you don't have t' tell me if you don't wanna. Jest, I didn't see you'uns touch that champagne toast. You don't feel sore towards Angela, do ya?" This just makes her laugh more, mostly in surprise. "Naw, Laz. Just, Ronnie don't drink much anymore. Sets off his anxiety. And me, well..." She tilts her chin down in the secretive way of all young women. "I'm not s'posed t' have it right now." The motions she makes and the way she says it causes Lazarus's grin to slide away to a slackjawed expression of awe. There's a stretch of silence, and before Laz can risk looking like a drowning fish, Rae drives it home. "Hey, Laz... would ya care if I named any of my babies after you? I wanna ask first, ya know..."

And just like that, everything's perfect for the old man, whose old yellowed grin makes him look ten years younger in an instant. Just when he was sure he was content, he realizes life's had him hungering after something else again, something he wanted for a long time, and now, something he's finally got.

Something - and someone - to be proud of.


End file.
